


Self-Inflicted Wounds That Heal In Time

by zagirlfriends



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Pre-Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8859463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zagirlfriends/pseuds/zagirlfriends
Summary: Tara cleans Rosita up after the showdown with Negan, and tells her some things she needs to hear.





	

Tara glances at the Bobblehead over Rosita’s shoulder as she tries to steady her hand enough to bring the needle to the other woman’s face. She’s still jumpy from the showdown with Negan, and the silence isn’t helping.

Rosita sits in complete numbness, eyes glazed and set on the wall across from her, totally oblivious to the worry radiating off of Tara in waves. She hasn’t said a word or acknowledged Tara’s presence since she helped her up from the street and led her back to the clinic to get cleaned up and Tara’s starting to worry she’s in shock.

Tara had tried to think of something, anything, to say to fill the tense silence, but there was nothing she possibly could say. So for once in her life, she let the quiet remain as it was as she went about preparing to stitch up the reminder Negan and Arat left behind on Rosita’s face.

Once she’s about eighty percent confident she can do this without scarring the other woman, Tara gently cups Rosita’s chin and tilts her head up so she can start, proud of herself for only cringing a little bit as she pierces the smooth skin of Rosita’s cheek.

She’s careful as she gently weaves the stitch, just like she watched Denise do a dozen times, but Tara can’t stop her gaze from flickering up to Rosita’s eyes every so often, checking to see if there’s any kind of change yet.

The last time she’d seen her this out of it was that day in the garage, when the walkers were swarming and she was sure Abraham was dead. Tara had gotten through to her then, somehow managed to string the right words together to get Rosita out of her funk and ready to fight, but the words aren’t coming to her as easily this time, and Rosita is far worse off now, anyways.

But all the same, as the silence continues to stretch on, Tara can feel that need to say something bubbling up again, words that haven’t yet fully formed in her brain already clawing their way up her throat until they’re tumbling out of her mouth.

“I know you think you’ve got nothing left,” she starts to say even though she’s not sure where the thought is going, but is startled to find brown eyes suddenly staring back at her when she looks up.

“Did the good father tell you that?” Rosita asks, speaking for the first time since Eugene was taken away. Her voice is low and mumbled, and she's careful not to move her face too much while Tara is still stitching it up. She glances away and looks down at her feet when Tara’s surprised eyes try to hold her gaze. “Guess confidentiality goes out the window during the apocalypse, huh?”

Tara stills her hand as she searches Rosita’s face for something she’s not even sure of, a sign that maybe she’s not as far gone as Tara had originally assumed. She swallows thickly as she thinks, taking the time to run through what she wants to say in her head before speaking, now that she knows Rosita might actually be receptive to her attempt at a pep talk and she won’t just be talking to talk.

“Gabriel didn’t tell me anything, he didn’t have to,” she finally continues, eyes lingering on Rosita’s for a moment longer before she brings her focus back to the stitches, hoping her divided attention will help to add a more casual air to a heavy moment and keep Rosita from retreating. “Losing everything, you know, it’s not exactly a feeling I’m unfamiliar with. A lot of us know what you’re going through. Me, Maggie, Sasha…”

“But you guys didn’t go and get someone killed,” Rosita cuts her off gruffly, the sharp turn of her head forcing Tara to stop her stitching once again. “I get it, I fucked up.”

“You didn’t, that’s not…” Tara isn’t trying to chastise Rosita for how she’s dealt with her loss, she just wants her to know that there are people that understand how she’s feeling and that she’s not alone. But something tells her that’s not what Rosita needs right now. Shaking her head, Tara goes for a different approach. “Yeah, you fucked up. Olivia’s dead, and Eugene’s gone, because of what _you_ did.”

Rosita flinches at Tara’s words, though they’re not spoken unkindly, nor are they undeserving. “Gee, thanks.”

“But we’ve all fucked up. We’ve all done things, or _not done_ things, that have caused someone’s death, or hurt them.” Tara thinks of Daryl and what she’s been told about that night with Negan, of her own choice not to tell her friends about the group she met and the community members that may die at the hands of the Saviors without access to those guns. She thinks of what they all did at the satellite station, and if Beatrice had been right when she said they had started all of this. “That’s just the way the world is now. There’s too much death and danger to always get it right. But you can _make_ it right, now. By helping us, by not giving up, not giving into that feeling that nothing matters anymore, that _you_ don’t matter anymore.” Tara dips her head to try to catch Rosita’s downcast eyes and gives her a kind smile. “Because you do, you matter to people, and we need you.”

“Oh yeah?” Rosita laughs bitterly and it sounds hollow, Tara’s words reminding her of the ones Gabriel tried to tell her earlier, ones that almost worked before Negan had killed someone else so callously in front of her and she snapped, unable to let him taunt her with that fucking bat and sociopathic grin again. “Because I’m such an _important part of the team_? I can’t even hit a guy standing fifteen feet away from me.”

“Because people care about you,” Tara corrects her, her firm tone bringing Rosita’s watery gaze back up to her. “ _I_ care about you.” Seeing Rosita’s shoulders slump a bit at her words, Tara figures it’s safe to start stitching her back up again as she continues. “You know what I was thinking when Arat had you laid out on the ground like that? I was terrified that I was about to lose _another_ person I care about.” Tara winces when she has to tug extra hard on one of the last stitches, but Rosita doesn’t seem to notice as her stare remains steadily on her, even when the other woman glances over to hold her gaze again. “So, y’know, if you’re so set on hinging your self-preservation on whether or not anyone will miss you if you die… Be smarter, okay? Because _I’d_ miss you, and not just for your pretty face.” It’s not good to live for someone else, Tara knows that, it’s not enough. But it’s a start, and it’s the truth, and if that will give Rosita some kind of purpose for even a couple of weeks, Tara will count that as a win. “Alright?”

Rosita’s face remains blank for a few moments as she watches Tara finish up her work, until her lip finally twitches up into the ghost of a smile for just a few seconds before it drops again. But still, she mumbles an “Alright,” and that’s good enough for Tara.

“There, all done,” Tara says a moment later, putting the finishing touches on her job before admiring her work. Not as good as Denise would’ve done, or even Rosita herself, but it’ll do the trick and shouldn’t leave a scar. Though she’s totally confident that Rosita could’ve rocked it. “And still as gorgeous as ever,” she adds, catching the single tear that had escaped and wiping it off Rosita's cheek with her knuckle. That actually gets Tara another tiny smile that she returns before putting the supplies back where she found them. When she turns back to Rosita, she looks smaller than Tara can ever remember seeing her, her head bowed and her hands curled into her lap, obviously already retreating back to someplace bad again. “Come on, you can stay with me tonight.”

Rosita looks up to Tara’s kind face and outstretched hand, and shakes her head. “I’m okay,” she assures her, though it’s obvious she’s not. “You don’t have to babysit me or keep me company or whatever, I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

“I know,” Tara replies simply with a nod, because she does know. She knows that after what just happened that Rosita won’t try anything like that again, at least not with Negan, but that’s not all she’s worried about. She doesn’t want Rosita sitting alone in her and Abraham’s old room with her thoughts tonight anymore than she wants to sit alone in her and Denise’s old room with hers. “But you’re not the only one that lost someone. _I_ could use the company.”

Rosita hesitates for just a moment longer before she gives in and takes the offered hand, letting Tara lead her back home.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a fairly casual viewer of the show, so hopefully nothing was too off :)


End file.
